


A Night of Two Firsts

by afinecollector (orphan_account)



Series: In The Beginning [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Row, First argument, Fluff, Greg is just the sex, Hurt/Comfort, I can see their smiles in my head, Love, Lovers Quarrel, M/M, Mycroft is too adorable, Mystrade fluff, Sherlock is a git, first I love you, lovers tiff, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:51:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/afinecollector
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg slowly turned his head, his eyes scanning Mycroft’s face as the words sunk into his mind. “Jesus,” He whispered after a moment, his throat tight and his voice hoarse. Slowly, his cheeks rose as he broke into a smile. “I don’t - I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” He admitted weakly, “But, for some reason, I feel like I should say <i>I love you, too</i>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night of Two Firsts

Greg had stormed into the modest townhouse first, but Mycroft wasn’t very far behind him. Despite Greg’s clearly piqued temper, Mycroft closed the front door behind him softly and followed in Greg’s path into the open lounge with steady steps. The house was not in total darkness, the two table lamps in the lounge had been left on, and upstairs the bathroom light was on and illuminating the darkness a little through the door that was left ajar. Greg’s daughters were visiting, and sleeping in their room above. Mycroft wasn’t sure if they knew who he was - or what he was - to their Dad. 

“I don’t understand why you don’t say anything,” Greg paused his pacing of the room at the far end of the sofa and turned to Mycroft who was still standing just inside of the doorway, hovering nervously whilst looking like he had no dominant feeling at all. “I mean, he’s _your_ bloody brother; it shouldn’t be down to me to kick him when he’s being a prick.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “I mean, Jesus! You just sat there and let him say all of _that_ ,” He threw out his left hand, his face set in a singular mix of anger and confusion. Met by silence from Mycroft, Greg dropped his hands and shook his head. “And even now, you’re doing nothing.” His anger was contained well, though, all things considered. He gritted his teeth to express his anger rather than shouting. Perhaps, for that, he deserved a little praise. 

“What would you have me say to him - _Please don’t offend my boyfriend by being the arrogant good-for-nothing you always are_?” Mycroft spoke calmly, quietly, his words measured and clipped, his tone firm but lacking any real sign he was concerned that Greg was truly angered. 

Greg widened his eyes and nodded, “Would have been a start, yeah!” He shrugged and his mouth opened and closed, searching for ways to express his annoyance. He gave a sigh, looking suddenly deflated and pushed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I thought this meant something. We see one another most days throughout the week. I thought that _I_ meant something.” 

Mycroft blinked slowly and swallowed shallowly, “You do, and this does.” 

Greg’s mouth turned down at the corners and he shook his head slowly, “Then why didn’t you speak up when he talked to me like that?” 

“Because I thought that what we have was just that, what _we_ have. Sherlock’s opinion was neither asked for nor needed, and it certainly does not validate or disprove anything.” Mycroft stepped further into the room as Greg sat down suddenly on the sofa. Greg rubbed his palms across his face and shook his head again. 

Greg looked up at Mycroft, his dark eyes wide and changing in their overpowering emotion frequently. He pointed his right index finger at him, “You should have stuck up for us. Letting him belittle our relationship, letting him be such a - a _dick_ makes me feel like you agree with him. He called us _insignificant_ ; he called us convenient and insignificant, Mycroft, and you didn’t say a word to correct him or shut him up. I mean, I know Sherlock’s an arrogant prick at the best of times but that’s not personal. This was.” 

Mycroft drew in his cheeks at the comment, “How often do I agree with Sherlock? And if you can even consider for one moment that I consider you to be merely convenient, or at all insignificant, then you clearly haven’t been paying any attention. What use is it to argue with him at all? Sherlock was born an intransigent figure and he shall remain that way until the day of his death; I am not certain of many things, but, among the things I do hold to be sincere ideas, that is almost paramount.” 

“Almost paramount? I think Sherlock being an unreasonable cock would be a sure-thing in everyone’s book,” Greg quirked one eyebrow and continued to shake his head, apparently the only way he could keep a lid on the anger that bubbled inside of him. “My kids had to accept their Dad didn’t want to be married to their Mum anymore, then they had to accept that Daddy didn’t actually love women, and they’ve done that, as kids, with more decorum and being more tolerant than your dickhead brother. They’re children, Mycroft!” 

“And Sherlock is not?” Mycroft challenged. “Do not feel fooled by that frame, or the length of his legs; there is very little about Sherlock that could be considered adult, not least of all his brainwork.” Greg closed his eyes, snorting a breathy laugh despite his temper. “I am sorry your feelings have been hurt tonight, sincerely I am, but I see no need to be hurt by his validation on anything. Sherlock is bitter, lonely and grasping at straws. Why should it be defining of us what he thinks?” Mycroft invited himself to sit down, keeping a little space between himself and Greg and thought over his following statement. “There is, of course, one thing I know more certainly that my brother’s ridiculousness, and that is that the last two months with you have brought me more joy than I have felt in a very long time. And your loss from my life at the level to which I have become accustomed would surely take with it all I currently hold dear.” 

Greg slowly turned his head, his eyes scanning Mycroft’s face as the words sunk into his mind. “Jesus,” He whispered after a moment, his throat tight and his voice hoarse. Slowly, his cheeks rose as he broke into a smile. “I don’t - I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to that,” He admitted weakly, “But, for some reason, I feel like I should say _I love you, too_.” 

Mycroft’s lips softened into a thin smile. “That seems acceptable.” 

Greg’s smile broadened further and he moved across on the sofa, leaning into Mycroft to pull the man’s tense body close. He held him in a hug for a minute, before drawing back to see his face. Slowly, he pushed his lips to Mycroft’s and sighed into the kiss when he felt Mycroft’s arms finally loosen and embrace him in return. Greg’s right arm wrapped up over Mycroft’s shoulder, giving him the space to ensure he could cup the back of Mycroft’s head with his right hand, whilst his left arm entwined with Mycroft’s and his left hand rested on the man’s slim hip, just inside of his suit jacket. 

The kiss slowly lingered and finally broke, with Mycroft drawing in his lips as if to regain his composure. He looked up into Greg’s eyes, his pupils blown wide. “Your daughters…” He said quietly, mere inches from his face. 

“I know,” Greg nodded and sat back a little. “Are you staying?” 

Mycroft swallowed hard and shook his head briefly. “Perhaps I better had not; it’s getting late and I wouldn’t want your children to feel they were losing their time with you.” He sat for a moment, before pushing his palms into the sofa cushion and rising to his feet. Greg stood alongside him. 

“That wouldn’t be the case, but your consideration for them is sweet.” Greg smiled at him shyly. 

“So I’ll leave, and perhaps after the girls rejoin their mother tomorrow, you could get in touch and perhaps what this night failed to offer can be found then?” Mycroft said, awkward on his feet and unsure what to do with his hands. 

Greg’s smile grew. “I like the sound of that.” 

Mycroft nodded his head, “Yes, I rather thought you might.” He stilled and looked Greg squarely in the eyes. “Goodnight, Gregory.” 

Greg’s smile softened into one of pure affection. “Goodnight, Mycroft.”


End file.
